Crescent Moon, Hooked on the Past
by lingyao
Summary: Sesshomaru is having a hard time saying goodbye to himself. Then again, he knew he'd have to do it sometime.


Staring up at the crescent moon, Sesshomaru sighed. His eyes flicked downwards to the river ahead of him; pure and sparkling from where he sat watching on the cliff. Pulling the fur around himself, he breathed in its scent and thought of happier times. Did they even exist, or was he just imagining it? Was the truth too strong to bear?

Wondering if he ever had any such wish, for such a futile thing, he raised his hand to the sky, seeing the iridescent alabaster of his skin glitter in the pale light, illuminated with shadow and softness. A sickly pallor, or simply fair? He scoffed silently at the idea, just to laugh it away, but in his heart he knew that he had no answer.

Touching a hand to his forehead and running his fingers down the lilac sliver of a moon, curved thickly, shaded a sweet purple, he could feel no difference between it and the rest of his body. As if things like that truly mattered.

His eyes cast a faint golden glow as they produced one of the rarest treasures he had ever given the world, to show even a shard of his heart. Shattered like the Shikon jewel, crushed underneath the weight of the world before he even took his first breath. Long ago, as a child, he had always understood that he wouldn't be able to experience things the way other children would. He had envied Inuyasha for that, at first, before he convinced himself of its weakness. Later, he had punished himself thoroughly for thinking such poisonous thoughts. Human thoughts.

Maybe it wasn't so bad for a kid to marvel at the beauty that they could see, before society closed off their eyes with one final snap of its gaping maw – splintering all that they loved into irecognisable wreckage. Thinking back on it, that might have been all that he wanted.

He recalled when, earlier that day, Rin had jumped up and down, pointing to the sky and yelling about a butterfly.

"Look, look, Sesshomaru-sama! A butterfly!" She had cried, her little arm straining outward towards it, trying desperately to pinpoint it as it fluttered back and forth.

Rasing a snowy brow, he slid one eye open and asked, "What of it?"

"The colours, don't you see?" She looked to him and smiled, a genuine smile. "They look like you. Maybe you'll be a butterfly like this one day."

Then she had turned away from him again, not catching the minute hitch in his steady breathing, nor the flicker in his eyes like a flame rekindled. It didn't mean anything anyway, because it was only a mistake. He faltered for a moment, that was all.

But still… gazing up at the fragile creature flitting its way without a care, without a single care that it had no home, just making its journey to whereever made it happiest before it died. Something grew in his chest then, and his face felt hot. His eyes were burning, stinging even, though he waved it off and tried to ignore the insect. And by the time he tried finding it again, searching the sky for it, it was gone.

It was an emotion he couldn't name, much less understand, and, even worse, attempt to explain. All he knew was that it was a powerful one, and it came with a sworn vengeance against him for shutting it out so long. When it finally released its iron grip on his throat, he felt drained, a hollowed shell of himself.

Instead, he contemplated other, less volatile things, like what they were going to do next and where they were going to go. However, it didn't work. His mind would blank or cut out, constantly returning to unwanted memories and fake scenarios he used to yearn for in secret, when he was still naïve.

He didn't want to be Inuyasha's brother. He didn't even want to be distantly related to him. He didn't even want the brat to exist. Yet he did, and Sesshomaru had to live with it. After all, numerous attempts to kill him hadn't been successful, and he was only wasting his time.

Some part of him whispered that he purposely dulled his edge when fighting him, that he didn't try hard enough, that he held back, but he tried to ignore it. He had no response for it. Outrightly denying what was most likely the truth would be the same as admitting that Inuyasha had always been too strong for him, and both options were detrimental to his pride.

Clutching at the fur, he raked his mind for some kind of solution, but he provided no question. A question would the first step to acknowledging that there was a problem, something wrong with him. He'd rather poison himself.

That was thought-provoking enough. Again, the voice returned, although this time it didn't whisper, it boomed. It was that of his father's, ringing in his ears, telling him that he _was_ destroying himself from the inside out. _All this hatred will end you. If mere humans who roil with their own bitterness die from it, then what of you? You are much stronger than them, Sesshomaru._

His father allowed enough of a pause for his son to be misguided by the statement and smile at the praise. Of course, he forever loved doing that. Making Sesshomaru look self-absorbed and silly.

Then he continued, _because you are stronger than them, it will not kill you, but you will suffer. And this pain will cause you to hurt others. You will want to poison them with the same disease. But I beg of you, being strong does not mean being merciless. Kill yourself if you will, but you must never try to place your own burden upon anyone else._

Upon that logic, Sesshomaru founded a home. He knew he would rather crack beneath the sheer pressure than concede to letting anyone help him, and he also knew that this was most definitely not what his father had intended when he uttered those words. Or perhaps he had.

_Kill yourself if you will._

Snapping out of his reverie, he tried to focus his sight back onto his surroundings. It was still nightfall. That much he had been dimly aware of. Glancing around himself coolly, he took in that not much had changed. He sorely wanted to see the sakura blossoms, but the trees were nowhere to be seen. That was to be expected. This was a forest of strong, hardwood trees, none of them able to bear fruit or flowers.

Snaking forward across the night sky was a long, wisping cloud, trailing over the moon in a thin film. It almost looked like his dog form, the way that it stretched out at some corners into paws with rolling locks of white fur sweeping up the legs. And there, in the corner, an ear. Possibly a tail near the end, even if it happened to be placed at a peculiar angle.

The stars twinkled behind it, and when he squinted, he could distinctly see all the colours. Lime, bright, green like an emerald. Lustrous blue in a gradient from pastel to azure. Violet, striking a gorgeous image around the white pinprick. Crimson, brilliant red, the colour of Inuyasha's robes in strong sunlight.

Realising what he had thought of, he struck himself hard across the cheek on instinct. Shocked at what he had done, he stared at his own hand. Had he taught his body what to do when his mind betrayed his duty, even as a child? Was it now so deeply ingrained into his muscles that it came naturally?

Slumping down, he reluctantly let himself continue admiring the stars, as a small comfort, and an apology to himself. Now he could see their centers, all of them a pure, clean white, every one of them identical at their core. He didn't fully understand what they were or how they worked, only how they appeared to be and what forms they took when lined up in a particular way. So to him, they gave a consolation that they all shared the same heart, as far as he could tell by looking at them. It almost made him feel like he could be saved. Well, almost.

Wandering between thoughts, he honestly wondered where the butterfly had gone. Obviously, he only wondered because he had a sense of hope, but he quashed it hastily. In its place, he ultimately ruled out that it was dead, simple as that. Something that weak in a land so vicious was bound to be broken down and swallowed up. Additionally, those things never survived for long. Another thing he envied.

Denying all that had passed through his mind in the past few hours, he struggled to find some peace, but it never came. Eventually he gave up.

His eyes cast a faint golden glow as they produced one of the rarest treasures he had ever given the world, to show even a shard of his heart. Like how an oyster hurts immensely to produce a pearl as the solid proof of its pain, he let a single tear roll down his cheek and drip off his chin. It left a cold, damp track on his face that chilled a bit as the wind blew, drying its remnants calmly.

Unruffled, he let that lone pearl shatter into his clothing and disappear away. He didn't want to see it anyway. He'd always had trouble facing this kind of thing. Looking at it, remembering it, only served to verify that it had truly occurred.

_Look, father_, he wanted to scream at the moon, _I finally cried. Now will you love me? Now will you compliment this newfound humanity?_

But he knew the answer to the question, as it returned faithfully to his ears.

_Kill yourself if you will._

_I beg of you._


End file.
